


Fatherhood

by Etaleah



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Art, Childhood, Childhood Friends, Children, Crying, Family, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Friendship, Gen, Gondor, Hobbit Children, Hobbiton, Hobbits, Neurodiversity, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Past Character Death, Post-Canon, Road Trips, School, Single Parents, old fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 18:54:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17330528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etaleah/pseuds/Etaleah
Summary: After losing his wife to an early childbirth, Pippin faces the task of raising his son Faramir alone. What's worse is that Faramir is a very special child, which can sometimes make parenting more difficult for his father than any quest. Yet the two share a fierce love for each other, love that will carry them through many trials together.





	Fatherhood

Pippin woke to a sudden shriek and was up and out of bed before even registering what it was or where it had come from. This had happened often enough that it was practically automatic. His little lad would wake up suddenly in the middle of the night and be terrified that it was dark and Daddy wasn't there. Whether Faramir screamed because he was frightened or because he knew it would bring Pippin running into the room, he wasn't sure. Probably both.

"Shh! There there, little one. Daddy's here." He scooped up the wriggling little body and held it close against his shoulder, bouncing it a little. "Daddy's gotcha, it's all right." He preferred Daddy to Da, although Merry insisted it would sound babyish as Faramir got older. Pippin felt around for his matchbox and candle- he had taken to leaving them on a table in Faramir's room so he could easily give himself some light for these nighttime wailings. Faramir always calmed down a bit when the room brightened and he could see Daddy's face.

"Muh-muh-mun-," Faramir whimpered, kicking his little feet. Pippin sat down with him in the rocker and kissed his cheek. He'd been saying that lately, it was the closest he'd gotten to talking; and at his age Pippin didn't expect he would get much further for a long time. What disturbed him was that it sounded heart wrenchingly close to "Mama." And Mama was a need Pippin couldn't provide.

He could feed his son and clothe him and rock him to sleep and bathe him and change his nappies and take him for walks in his pram and play with him. He could do his best to protect him and care for him when he was sick or sad. But try as he might, Pippin could never be his son's mama.

"I miss her too, son," Pippin whispered. "She'd be so proud of you. Every bit as much as I am." He wiped away the tears on Faramir's cheeks with the gentlest touch he could. He stroked his baby hair and skin, still marveling at how soft they were. His hair was the same color as Pippin's, though it was much straighter, seeing as the effects of the Ent draughts weren't genetic. His eyes were like Pippin's too, only they had that effect of darkening when he was upset, like Diamond's. And he was so impossibly small that at first Pippin had been afraid to hold him. How could anything so little possibly grow and thrive?

Diamond had snapped at him then. "You were once that size too, weren't you? And look at you now."

Look at him now.

Faramir had stopped crying and was now resting his head on Pippin's chest, staring up at him with adoring eyes that made Pippin want to melt into a puddle. When these night terrors first started, he had been frantic to remedy the tears by giving his son a bottle, a toy, his bunny, a clean nappy, anything to make it stop. But after a week, he'd figured out that his presence was usually all that was needed. Pippin cherished these times even if they deprived him of sleep. He loved the warmth and softness of the blanket-wrapped baby against him. He loved those eyes. He loved that hair. He loved the way Faramir immediately calmed down when Pippin picked him up, how he reached out his arms as soon as Pippin walked in the room, and how he could fall asleep to Pippin's voice singing him a lullaby.

His own father hadn't done this for him. Hadn't rocked him, read to him, or sang to him. Not that Paladin had been unloving; he had ensured that his son- and his daughters too, for that matter- had a respectable, quality education and were well dressed and never made to skip a meal. Whenever there was a birthday, Paladin was there with hugs and cheer. But the Thain was a busy hobbit, and even if he hadn't been, the issue of giving children baths and putting them to bed and feeding them had always been deemed a "Mummy Task." There was no law saying so of course, and if the mother was not around for some reason, no one would object to the father taking over for a bit, but if the mother  _was_ around, it was an unwritten custom that it was her responsibility to do the nurturing tasks. Pippin had never thought twice about it until now.

Being a single parent was hard, there was no getting around that. It was hard for a mother or a father. Those first few weeks after Diamond had passed, Pippin had lost track of who cried more: himself or Faramir. His sisters and Merry and Estell and Sam and Rosie had all been wonderful in lending a hand and offering to watch Faramir for him or cook dinner while he caught up on sleep, but he couldn't expect them to be around forever. They had families of their own.

"I may be all you've got," he whispered to Faramir. "But I'm going to do my best to be all you need." His son had fallen asleep, so there was no answer. Pippin knew he should put him back to bed, but he didn't move. These rocking sessions were almost as soothing for him as they were for the baby. Watching his son snooze contentedly reminded him that he was still okay, that Pippin hadn't made a mistake with him yet.

And oh, was Pippin afraid of making a mistake! He had been the one to make all the mistakes on the quest, after all. It was only by fate and perhaps his own good fortune that everything had turned out well in the end; there was no guarantee that the same would happen for his son. Pippin lived in constant fear of dropping him, forgetting to feed him, undercooking his meals and making him sick, turning his back for a minute only to wonder where Faramir had gone off to (as has often been the case with himself and his own mother), and many other things. He ever found himself fretting over small matters like whether his bath water was too hot or too cold or if his clothing was too tight. Whether this sort of worry was healthy Pippin didn't know. He only knew he couldn't help it.

A funny thing, that was. He had watched other hobbit children plenty of times, mostly Sam's or his own nieces and nephews, and was always very lenient with them. Pippin had never been one to demand finishing a main course before starting a dessert (he cheated on that rule himself even now) or bundling up if it got cold. He figured if it made them happy, why ruin their happiness? But with his own son, it was a different story. Faramir was precious. Faramir meant everything to him.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," he said softly, and was careful in rising from the rocker and blowing out the candle. He started to lower Faramir into his cradle, then decided on a whim to take him to his own bed. Pippin had been afraid to take his son to bed with him for fear he would accidentally roll on top of him and crush the baby's tiny rib cage in his sleep, but he was wide awake now and wasn't quite ready to part with him just yet.

Faramir didn't even stir as Pippin laid him down with his little head on the pillow. The bed was huge compared to his cradle and he looked even tinier in it. Pippin lay stretched out beside him and watched the blanket rise and fall, feeling love fill him up from the tips of his toes to his cheeks, which until this moment he hadn't even realized were wet. He hadn't realized until now how nice it was to have someone else in the bed with him.

 _What would I be doing right now if Diamond were alive?_ He always wondered if he wouldn't have been a better parent if she had lived. Diamond had helped care for children her whole life whereas Pippin had only just started. Until his friends and cousins married and started their families, he had always been the youngest and there hadn't been anyone around for him to look after.  _Would she have got up with Faramir instead? Would I have just stayed in bed and gone back to sleep?_

He had been resentful of that at first. Those weeks following Diamond's death were awful. Though Faramir was, of course, too young to understand that she had died, it seemed to Pippin that he somehow sensed that Mum was gone and wasn't coming back, because overnight he went from being a fairly even-tempered baby to a screeching one. Faramir had cried for hours until Pippin thought he would go insane or burst into tears himself. He slept for only two hours at a time- if Pippin was lucky- and spit up everything he ate. Yet he somehow still needed a nappy change constantly, and Pippin had to resort to begging his family and friends to lend him some of theirs because he couldn't wash his own fast enough. Never in his life had he felt so helpless, not even while he'd been held captive by orcs.

But as time passed and Faramir began to sleep longer, Pippin found he not only didn't mind it, but even  _enjoyed_ it when Faramir woke him up and they spent time together in the rocker. He enjoyed reading his son bedtime stories and watching the awe in his eyes the first time he saw a butterfly or a raindrop. He especially enjoyed singing to him. He smiled. On his first day as a father, Pippin had been too nervous to even hold his son, and look how far they'd come. He'd been more or less forced out of his comfort zone, out of his idea of what tasks were reserved for fathers and which were reserved for mothers. And, though he would always miss Diamond terribly and would never in a million years have wished her such a short life, a part of him thought maybe some good came out of her death. This way he could enjoy mummy tasks.

 _Or perhaps,_ he thought suddenly,  _they're not mummy tasks after all. Maybe mummies and daddies aren't so suited to different roles as we think._ All this thinking began to tire him out, and he was just closing his eyes when he heard a noise.

"Da."

"Mm?" Pippin didn't register the noise at first. Then he slowly opened his eyes. "Hmm?"

"Da. Muh-da."

"Faramir!" Pippin clapped a hand over his mouth. His eyes were getting watery again.

"Muh-da!" Faramir slapped his little hand on the bed, like he wanted to emphasize that word. By the moonlight, Pippin could see that he was smiling. It was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

"I'm not sure if you're trying to call me Mum-Da, or if you're saying 'My Da,'" Pippin said. "But I suppose either one is correct." He rolled onto his back and pulled Faramir onto his stomach, smiling into his eyes with Faramir smiling back. "I love you so much," he said, and went to sleep hugging his son to his chest.

Faramir was still smiling when he woke up.


End file.
